Salting Wounds
by Caracu
Summary: Faced with an unrecognizable Sasuke, Naruto admits his desire for an end to his search and misery-It came with his death and he welcomed it with open arms. Too bad he hadn't really counted on the end being just another beginning, one he's not supposed to face with a lousy head on his shoulders. AU. TimeTravel.


**Note: **This story will most likely be AU and it will be manifested since the first chapter. This will not follow canon as I haven't really watched the series, especially shippuden, but I still found myself wanting to write a fic so voila. Naruto will _still _be the main character but he'll be different than the one in the canon. And, surprise surprise, Naruto is not mine.

**Warnings: **Alternate Universe. No obvious romance (and if there would be one, which I doubt atm, I guarantee a slash).

**Summary: **Faced with an unrecognizable Sasuke, Naruto admits his desire for an end to his search and misery-It came with his death and he welcomed it with open arms. Too bad he hadn't really counted on the end being just another beginning, one he's not supposed to face with a lousy head on his shoulders. AU. TimeTravel.

**Prologue**

The air was thick, with dark clouds looming over, its weight growing heavy with the foreboding of a storm. Atop the massive body of water, a blond stood still, panting heavily as he withheld the urge to brush a hand to his sweat cladded neck in favor of honing his senses to his surroundings. His hair stuck to his cheeks and forehead while a few unruly ones stuck out everywhere. He assumed he couldn't be bothered by it _now _but he found himself clenching and unclenching the kunai at his suddenly clammy hand.

The place was eerily quiet, save for a few rustling of trees that was slowly but _surely_ getting in his nerves. It could be a sign of his opponent but the strong winds caressing his face provided an annoying possibility of deceit and miscalculations. His mind was racing but he forcefully pushed his mind to focus. The blond inhaled deeply, irate, not even allowing his eyes to blink away the wetness that suddenly formed.

Pity that he couldn't mask his face long enough for the rain to pour.

"Crying again, dobe?" the voice was smug, a bit hoarse but familiar nonetheless.

It was only because of constantly being on edge in the past weeks that the blond managed to dodge the kick to his side. "Not quite," he rasped out, wincing when his voice came out almost a pitiful whine. "Teme." The man stood emotionless before him, standing still like he did, lips turned up just a bit as the wetness in his eyes overflowed with an involuntary blink. They were exhausted, beyond their limits, and this was just the small talk that was both everything and nothing for them. And they allowed it mainly because they knew they were close, so close to an end.

Thus the last opportunity for their pet names. It was endearing and painful at the same time. A bit underhanded for Naruto, but he wasn't going to say that he was affected, _still _affected, by the past. The blond looked at the man who was an arm away from him, staring at the dark pool of eyes that refused to show anything while his own showed-he snorted. His legs felt heavy at what he saw.

"You've changed," he croaked out "Sasuke." The man didn't reply. Naruto dipped his head low, tearing his eyes away from the other's scrutiny, not wanting to show how vulnerable he was but realizing that he wasn't succeeding with his course of action.

Dimmed ocean blue eyes focused sharply on the unwavering gaze of his enemy, his _friend. _Sasuke didn't posses the uncertainty Naruto was drowning in at the moment. Instead, the dark-haired man carried his body languidly, strained, struggling to remain standing as much as he was but his eyes were clear of confusion. "Aren't you tired of this Sasuke?" he started again just because the silence was suffocating him. In his mind he wondered how many times he could say the bastard's name before he was killed senseless.

He was met by silence, a usual response Sasuke graced him but he found himself liking it better than the recent constant aim at his throat every time they met. _H__onestly, _was killing him that much of a goal to the Uchiha?

"I'm tired." Onyx eyes widened slightly before it was wiped off in less than a second, but Naruto caught it and he was _thrilled _to see those eyes with emotions-no matter how little it was. He let out a chuckle and then there was hell. Sasuke moved fast enough even with an injured leg.

He knew he was supposed to die then. It wasn't an end he was planning of but it was still an end. He attempted to at least choke out a laugh but found himself fall short of what he wanted. He was choking in his own blood but sadly didn't manage a laugh.

A long sword was thrust deep within his chest, boring through his back, painfully but abruptly stopping his heart. He knew he should have dodged, knew he should have fought but he suddenly felt tired. Even he himself was surprised at his lack of response but alas, he didn't find himself _care_. He was tired of all the chasing, tired of the rejection, tired of seeing _that _face.

It was one that showed jealousy for someone who had the power but still had the nerve to smile genuinely, anger for the silent humility he had shown, and hatred for the unconditional friendship he had offered—even with the confrontation at hand. It was painful seeing that familiar face contort into something ugly unlike all the other times they had fought. His eyes held no doubt right there and then.

_Those dark orbs were telling him to die._

It was what had caused him to temporarily lose his sanity and accept anything the raven would give. With a half-smile adorning his face, he opened his arms in an accepting hug and welcomed the thrust to his heart—stopping everything. He faintly noted warm arms encircling him, though maybe that was just his never endless dream kicking in. The sky poured out its burden at the exact moment his eyes stopped doing so.

_And darkness enveloped his whole being._

* * *

**Chapter 1-the boy everyone loves**

* * *

"-chan"

He shifted in his sleep, burying himself in the comfort of his bed.

"Kit-chan" A hand kept shaking him awake.

He slightly opened an eye and mumbled, "mrmmm, five more." And he closed his eyes once more.

The hand shaking him suddenly retracted in defeat before he hears a sigh. "And in five more minutes you'll be late for school." He found himself suffering from coldness after a woman had tugged his blanket away. He was comfortable being a caterpillar, thank you very much.

"MOM!" He glared at the woman's now retreating back as she said something about bath and breakfast. He barely glanced at the clock beside his bed, managing to widen his eyes, trip at his own feet and perform a cartwheel, before scurrying of to the bath and putting his uniform on.

'S_hit, shit, shit, shit three times in a week would be so bad in my record—shit.' _He grabbed his bag, not bothering to check if he got everything in and rushed down the kitchen, grabbing his bento and stuffing his mouth with two loaves of bread, hurrying off to the door.

"Don't forget your shoes!" He heard his mother yell from the kitchen. '_R__ight, shoes.' _He grabs a pair and quickly puts them on before going out and slamming the door just to open it back again and shout a "BYE MOM, DAD!" drop his breakfast, pick them up, brush them a bit and stuff it in his face again.

"I wouldn't be surprised if our son got in the hospital and be diagnosed as someone who is three fourths bacteria and a fourth air," a man in his early thirties with dark brown hair and glasses, reading the newspaper on the dining table nonchalantly says with a shake of his head. Only his upturned lips indicated how amused he was.

"You're saying he isn't human then?" A woman with long hair awfully close to being dark red but could pass as plain black answered with a giggle, setting down a cup of coffee in front of the other.

"Possibly." The man hummed as he brought the cup to his mouth. "Last time he forgot his shoes to school didn't he?"

"..and his I.D. before that and his pants even before that."

"Ending up not going at all and coming back home in his pajamas?" The man inquired and they both laughed. Their son had never failed to amuse them.

* * *

The classroom door for class 1-D definitely suffered enough proved by the slight creak it produced when a certain bright red-haired boy slammed it open for the umpteenth time that week.

"SAAAAAAAAAAAAFE!" he called out, earning a flying book to his face and his classmates' hearty laughs.

"Safe my ass, moron, you're five minutes late," a man irritatingly said as he motioned for the teen to sit, "this has been you're third time this week, why in the world is that so?" he glared at the redhead who was tugging his long sleeves with his _puppy dog eyes _and he knew he was bound to surrender. But he'll be damned if he didn't at least _try._

"Demo, demo, Ryou-chan you know the school takes a twenty minute walk from my house and I made it in ten!" The teen reasoned to his homeroom teacher, Yamada Ryousuke, looking pleased with his achievement.

A vein popped and Ryousuke flicked the redhead's forehead continuously in front of the whole class. The act would have been insulting if it wasn't done so playfully, the man was obviously hiding a persistent grin from blooming on his face. "That's why your parents _gave _you a bike so you can make it in ten!"

"BUT I RAN!"

"WHY THE HELL DID YOU?!"

"YOU KNOW WELL I DON'T LIKE THOSE THINGS!"

"AND YOU RAN?!"

"IT FEELS BETTER."

The two argued for a whole five minutes while the class patiently—if not for the fact that some brought out cards or slept or just stared at the routinely occurrence of their classmate and teacher banging their nose together in argument—waited for the passing of the storm. With an eventual win from their classmate of course and by now all of them had learned not to bet on their teacher.

The teen skipped to his seat, tapping at the high fives raised to him by his classmates. He always managed to pave his way to the heart of their teacher slash his neighbor slash childhood friend (though he was obviously younger) and by now he only had three records of being late when it should have been nine. And his classmates accepted it. After all, he paved his way to their hearts too, no matter how much of a loud brat he could be. They blamed it to his puppy dog eyes. Those carefully made cerulean blue eyes that mirrored the skies and ocean, who could say no to those?

He noisily sat and dumped his bag beside him, opting to stare merrily at the skies from his beside-the-window seat (And yes, he paved his way to that too) before he turned to his side where his best friend, Takumi, a short-haired brunette with hair-clips adorning his head to hold his jaw-length hair sat snickering at him.

"What?" He raised a brow at the other; a snicker usually means that his friend noticed _something _in him worth laughing at. '_Scratch that, not usually, it was always' _he thought to himself as he followed his now boisterously laughing friend's hand that was pointing downwards to his pair of—not paired sneakers, a yellow and an orange one, _neon. _Face palm. And the whole class was laughing at him, _again._

"KitsuBaka!" it was the last recognizable word heard from the classroom before hell broke loose.

Ryousuke just sat down, thinking of how to explain to his superior the noise in his classroom so early in the morning, though they probably already know why. And it wasn't a secret that they always seem to skip through homeroom.

Kitsu peeked at his best friend from the corner of his eye, noting the obvious bulge in his right eye and the slightly swollen cheek.

"I would forgive you if you give me your omelet," Takumi abruptly said after sensing his friend's glance. It was unfair for him to end up with a black eye and swollen face when the other only had bruises and a cut in his lip. He couldn't stay angry at him though as he suddenly perked up and offered his lunch with a grin. _'Same old Kitsu,' _he thought as he accepted and they were friends again.

Sosei Kitsu was, for him, an anomaly. He was not sure if other people had noticed but this person right beside him at the rooftop eating his lunch at an abnormally fast pace obviously has a great amount of luck or charisma—for the lack of a more appropriate term.

He first met him when they were eight when he was playing in a park. Takumi was busying himself with the sand lot building something even he doesn't know what. Then a redhead kid wearing a white shirt and simple black shorts ran around the park with spray paint on both of his hands, waving them away as he laughed. He was followed by a young man, probably his father, who was sending apologies to those in the park for his son's noise. The commotion earned him his favorite bright green shirt a huge swirl of yellow at the back and the redhead had gotten off with only a half-scold half-laugh from his parents and playful pinches from the mothers of the bemused children, including his. What differed from him and the other kids though (which was why they had been together since then) was that he took the effort of snatching away one of the spray paints, painted his left hand and printed his hand to the back of the plain white shirt the redhead was wearing for his revenge. It earned him a grin and it enchanted him—still has—and they had never left each other's side…or at least he didn't.

He brushed that event off before, thinking that his best friend was only a child back then so it was obvious that he was forgiven easily but they were twelve now and he still witnessed the charm this infuriatingly—he doesn't mean that—naive friend of his displayed to not only the adults but also to their fellow classmates and friends. And all he could think of was how genuine the other's laugh was.

Everything that happened to Kitsu had always, _always, _been good—if not better. He assumed that maybe Kitsu saved a country or something in his previous life. So yes, Sosei Kitsu was an anomaly, he concluded as his tempura was snatched and it had only earned him a glare.

_And no one could hate him for more than a minute._

"Ne, Kitsu?" Takumi asked his best friend who was currently downing on his fourth sandwich so he was answered by a muffled "Hmphf?"

"Wanna go to the bookstore after class? I heard there was a new book coming out today and I wanted to check." He asked, guarding his lunch as Kitsu was eyeing another of his tempura.

"Huh? Sure, you're such a book worm Takumi" Kitsu answered as he seemingly settled to his own lunch before lunging to tackle Takumi—who barely protected the bento from falling—and managing to get the tempura.

"And you sure are a glutton," he grunted, giving in, and sat upright.

The school bell then decided that it was time to make the students suffer from lessons again and chimed so they hurried back to their classroom—Takumi tried but Kitsu just walked, too full to actually try to run. If Takumi had not known the redhead he might have concluded that Kitsu was purposely walking _very_ slowly.

* * *

It was not long before they were dismissed from their class and the students clambered to go to their own homes in groups. Takumi stood before his best friend's table, irritated by the fact the Kitsu was _sleeping_—not that it was unusual, Kitsu _always sleeps_ and Takumi was convinced that he spent most of his life just sleeping.

He delivers his signature kick in the back and Kitsu straightens up shouting profanities at him—same as always.

"If you hadn't had that swollen face of yours earlier.." he said as he rubs his back. "I would have finished you off with my roundhouse kick" Kitsu says in gritted teeth, caressing his aching back, while they take their walk to the bookstore on their way home. And he was answered with a soft "hai, hai" from the other.

_Ding._

The bell rang, signaling their entry to the store.

"Now, which book have you decided to scrutinize this time eh?" a tall young man inquired the teens as they entered. They had been at the store countless times—due to Takumi's unending love for books—that they were quite known to the staff. Not to mention the slightly melodic tenor of Kitsu's loud voice seemed to ring to everyone's ear inside the shop. Takumi was sure that if it weren't for that they would have been long banned from the store for being so noisy. Another of Kitsu's charisma, he mused, being let off again even when he had not bought _anything _since day one.

Takumi headed to the new releases. He was not surprised when he found Kitsu out of his sight. He always wandered around the bookstore—but it didn't change the fact that he was not buying.

Half an hour later, he was surprised to be met with a highly enthusiastic Kitsu jumping up and down from excitement. From what he did not know but he was fairly sure he had seen him holding a rather thick book in leather binds. "This looks so INTERESTING Taku! It was calling to me!" he managed to say between his jumps. "Saying buy me buy me!" He playfully added.

Amused, he answered back with a smirk. "Buy it then" and that was all it took to see the redhead hurry off to the counter like a five year old and shove his wallet to the poor staff, not bothering if said staff would get more than enough for the book. He barely wondered what the book was all about for Kitsu to behave like that but he has his own purchase so he supposed he could ask him after he finished his. He wouldn't be able to concentrate on reading if he did.

"Listen, listen Taku this book is about ni—"

Unfortunately for him, Kitsu has decided that the book was interesting enough to share, but disliking a spoil, he tuned him out before anything could make him want to snatch the book away.

"—interesting right?" and before he knew it the summary of the book Kitsu version had ended.

"Hai, Hai" He answered. If Kitsu ever found out that he was not listening he would be screwed. And Kitsu was already reading it! _'Maybe I should have listened.' _Takumi thought before they exchanged their good byes and parted ways. They'll be meeting at school tomorrow anyway so he'd just ask then.

And their routinely day ended.

Or at least it was for Takumi. Kitsu's was a different matter.

Waking up, going to school, eating lunch, laughing, going home, eating dinner, going to sleep and there, day finished. He would be in that endless dream again opting for another episode of his imaginations as he waited for sunrise.

He vaguely remembered his dreams but he knew it made him breathless, happy and sad, all superficially put together by his mind that he wondered if he would be a great writer someday—not that he liked reading books much more so _writing_ them, that was Takumi. But his imagination was surreal! Term used by yours truly (Kitsu).

This left him walking back home as he read this particular book, painstakingly familiar, an embodiment of his dreams. _'Is that even possible?' _he remembers asking himself when he found the book on a corner of the store. An author-less book in leather binds, carefully made and constructed and only a copy left! Wasn't he the luckiest man?

He had not felt as happy as anytime before. He dreamt of a different world, an adventurous life. It was true that he was loved by his peers, much more so than any other being he had seen; he wasn't dumb enough to not see that he was being favored—not the he was, he mentally corrected. But for some reason, he yearned for change, something he could not grasp, something he would work hard for, not given to him because he had the charm. He had everything but for some reason he felt empty.

He had not known that in wishing so he would have to take pains.

"I'm Home!" He shouted, not bothering to remove his eyes from his book nor take his shoes off and allowing his feet to lead the way. He was so absorbed in reading his newly found interest that he failed to notice the silence in the room he just entered. It was not until he stepped on something wet that he took his time to glance down.

Feeling his heart begin to rise, ocean blue eyes slowly trace the figures on the cold hard floor. His head felt like it was being squeezed so hard his skull would crack. His book felt so heavy in his arms that his fingers slacked and the book fell with a loud thud, echoing with the ringing in his ears. It felt like the world was going slow, painfully slow for his liking.

His vision was blurring.

Was he losing consciousness? Or was he crying?

He shook his head rather roughly, willing himself out of his daydreams. Hoping that it was _just _a dream. He chances another look at the ground, feeling a sickening twist in his stomach. A pool of blood, his Mom and Dad were lying on the ground.

No one else was in the room. He couldn't speak, he couldn't breathe, and he couldn't damn _move _to their side.

He vaguely thought again if this was all a dream. Not possible. His dreams always consisted of a lot of adventures, where he was trying to become a hero, where he was fighting for his dream. They consisted blood, yes. None of them consist dying loved ones.

With every bit of his courage that was slowly slipping away, he reached the phone calling for an ambulance before he slid down the floor and stared at the bodies lying down. His _parents' _bodies lying down. Not knowing if they were still alive. Not knowing if he was supposed to do something. Anything.

Then he was suddenly remembering his childhood, the times where his mom and dad came to pick him up from school, the times they gave in to his demands, the times they took him to the park, the times they read him a book to sleep, the times he inquired about his different eye color. He caught his breath. _There was a time his father had chuckled weakly to his family drawing, where he had mistakenly colored his hair yellow._

For some odd reason this does not feel like a first for him to have felt such grieve. Tears were running down his face but he felt as if he was crying for more than just this, for more people than he could count but could not remember.

It was too much, too much that his body decided to give in to shock before he became insane. Slipping from his reality, he caught sight of the book now lying beside his parents'. Yes, his dream. The dream where he was proving himself worthy of praise, where he was dreaming to become a leader and protector to his villagers, where he was hated but had been starting to earn other's love. The dream where he had a different name, different life—a life he still longs for despite of all the love he got from everyone in his day and time. In his dream he was Uzumaki Naruto, the rightful Rokudaime of the hidden leaf village. He weakly clutched at his chest where his heart beats fully, covered by a deep scar he had always wondered where he got.

His eyes slowly close as a blinding light envelop him and the smell of a forest, one that couldn't be from where he just was, drifted to his nostrils, lulling him to sleep.

The medics rushed to his home and carried his parents, blindly taking with them a book, with more than a half of its pages covered in blood-the boy who called them nowhere in sight.

His world was slowly crumbling… as another pulls him back.


End file.
